ai, larry wright is energetic on his compound cans ...
and he set the tone for a rather good film comedy on human behaviour in 1990 ... i thought this film's opening scene did that too, just one year earlier, in quite a different way, 'cos when the heat is on, so is the beat (in between 0.38 and 4.25 you want to hit the button)...
this week's theme is music, on jane's corner view, hosted by francesca.
off to higher grounds or on our bikes... let's go for a sunny cyclic stride alongside the river. 's been a while, but today might just be the day. no olympics though. resting if need be. rachel is cycling in the shadow of the king of bikes (seems to me, both husband ànd vehicle ☻), and we obviously follow....
contradiction and paradox. from yesterday's sorrow {by the way, amazing and ♥ warming how we share similar thoughts on today's politics throughout the world} to the abstract politics of music. a few months ago i found this gentleman in a thrift shop. could you fall for this kinda guy? i know i could! vaguely smiling, i took adamo home.
salvatore adamo, sixties picture thrifted
for some reason or other i mixed both adamo and rocco granata up in my head, and therefore paste them here in one post. true, they both are originally italian/popular belgian singers. dj buscemi joined forces with this old nostalgic power, and spruced up renato carosone's oh, sarracino. i hope fuoriborgo's land line opens up to this musical legend, while i wonder what the meaning is of all those belle frasi ... (hint, hint & yes, fran, this one is for you).
i am not writing a political blog. but now and again the politics of modern day living creep up on me. worries, sorrow, joy, abundance interlace, in a way life fluctuates anyway. also, now and again, attention is called to topics that make one wonder about the value of our everyday living. it makes me wonder.
ill. season winter, by rebecca stadtlander
a few recent remarks on the fact the country i am living in has no government, {and we're still alive} makes me stop in my tracks. in a time of change, in which politicians are nothing but economy's messengers, people today seem (head)strong(er) than politics. in this light, what do today's politics stand for?
ill. season spring, by rebecca stadtlander
in the seventies, when as a child, i got all excited over sunday afternoon political party street campaigns, parades in which sweets and other small stationery thrills were thrown at the spectator's feet, life and politics seemed to easily track. there were catholics, there were socialists, and there were liberals. things were cut and dry.
ill. season summer, by rebecca stadtlander
today i believe there's some twenty seven political crumbs, to this country alone, that either can't or won't agree on anything. their aim seems to be to divide and rule, but not even this they attain. they argue. they look after their own breed. they stagnate. meanwhile, the world runs. countries are run. people run. us, individuals run. or, we don't. we stop running. we reflect. and wonder.
{incidentally i stumble upon manuel castells' morning run in barcelona. ever since 9/11 spanish sociologist castell has entered my heart and brains with his think tank on social behaviour & personal identity, network theory & changing society.}
i realise i live in a country in which i can speak my mind freely, definitely a treasure. i appreciate this. and i don't think i will post anything in this style for a long time again (else i will start a political blog). but in these times of incredible change, i find our vows of values not half bedazzling. offering food for thought and consideration of today's society, in which our children grow up and will define ever changing global contours, i wonder also. is time perhaps pressing and otherwise excruciatingly ready for popular and firm(er) revolution?
belgium is divided, if you want to so call it, in two (three even) language areas. close to holland, we speak flemish, down the south french is the word, on the east side, german would be most popular. {a rather silly data, governmentless as belgium is to this date}
as i live pretty close to the wallonia region, i regularly take the train into such places as ath, tournai, charleroi and mons. on one of such trips, i slid past this unobtrusive place. the walloons may not blink at the name, but i'm wondering what anglophiles think upon riding through this village?
{the fact the railroad sign seems to be upholded by small zip cable wire, sure feels like a silly detail too, don't it?} ☻
staying at the seaside, in a family apartment from the seventies, doesn't just bring up ready memories. as at night i'm dropping off in front of a romantic b-movie, i catch zeta-jones whispering how cleveland rocks for some. i can't hardly believe there'd be a lotta heart to cleveland, even if singer ian hunter thinks rather so.
jim jarmush's stranger than paradise, portraying hilarious boredom, showed quite the opposite of cleveland (but the cold winter season as shown may have had something to do with that?).
blankenberge pier entertainment hall
back to the seaside, which isn't boring if you don't think it is. and it was alright,
north sea cabins
with amber & tangerine sunsets, a thrift shop & recycle gallery, fresh shrimp & cherry beer,
deserted hotel on sea parade
soft rounded local talk from the west in the backgrounds and red, red wine & scrumptious traditional foods from an excellent italian on fishery street....
sculpture artist's name unnoted
probably more diversity in the tiny coastal town than any bigger cosmopolis at the best of times, and coincidingly as good a place as anyone's imaginary cleveland...☻
in the eighties of the last century alternative music in belgium thrived. one of many succesful musical artists was luc van acker. besides a musician he produced other upcoming bands. his life and further musical escapades remain pretty obscure, which i prefer to shameless touting.
in the blessed year of 1984 luc van acker created zanna, a ship he sailed with anna domino. the video still is just that : it brings the music. by the looks of it, i have no idea where my ship will end up. i am only too surprised it finds itself atop a huge wave.
{to be truthful, lyrics on drawing by luc van acker}
as elisabeth steers her ever astonishing course, she's linking our dinghy's up this weekend...
do you like toast? i can't live without it. a toasty crunch is mandatory on a daily basis in our house. i even toast my polenta! i like it better that way. on it a paste of rucola and white mustard seeds.
icon... me thinking, the swedish interior design warehouse... pretty worldwide iconic.... ? the other week, i did have an interesting iconic experience, in an unexpected milieu.
i was in my local thrift shop (an icon in itself, actually), when i encountered a something very green and very intriguing. you know, when you stumble upon something, which you cannot define, but all the same, you sense you are staring at some golden egg or other. i wasn't too convinced at first sight, but at the ridiculous price they came in i bought three of 'em. well, sadly, there were only three.
coming home i looked closer turning the objects over and confirmed my suspicion they'd be rather swedish by design. upon encountering the PS sign, i knew i hit home. squinting my eyes i derived the name of one graeme findlay. wait a minute. not an average name after all.
belgian artist jean-michel folon's work i could never appreciate to its full impact. colours too soft, meaning incomprehensible (to me), subjects too dreamy or either too pronounced. in short, just not my cup of tea.
therefore i am appalled that, upon closing my eyes and trying to imagine anything about 9/11, i see spirits flying through the air, human birds raising against a darkened sky. i witness this, in folon style. thus i feel i should give credit to the man, for popping generously to mind, and offering me a vision, which for a non religious girl like myself, is nothing short of a premiere.
all while remembering 9/11, and not just 9/11. all while remembering people dying too fast, too soon; for being in the wrong place at the worst of times; for being human.
in springtime a. was serving coffee and cake in prince's garden, do you remember at all? i referred to her tummy, which wasn't prominent, for a five-months-pregnant lady.
just a few weeks ago, we had lunch by the canal in ghent, talking mum's business. a. had added the necessary pounds, did she ever. look at the love for the bump!
and now, a few days ago i got the news. j. is born! welcome to this world, jérôme.
these are some of my handy indispensables i dip into on a daily basis, in no particular order.
crochet hook, did i ever know the hook was gonna make me so overly happy? but it really, really has. it has also become crucial.
fountain pen, picked it up in a shop, it could have been on sale. didn't cost me an arm and a leg, and pink at that! it being a waterman pen, it has lived with me for years now, still growing strong and pretty indispensable.
morning coffee, what can i say but spilling the beans : too right, downright fundamental daily fix.
blogging, ladies & gentlemen! i could never have guessed this was going to take flight as it has. thanks to all of you, wonderful readers, you are making my day {and my every day} capital!
last but not least, these are totally essential... i'd be blind as a bat without my glasses (ànd lenses) at hand, or rather, on my eyes ...
all the indispensability that tania can muster, on jane's corner view, hosted by francesca.
(and dip away from raindrops), and all that i can find is of the non portable kind. which is why i would love salvage grounds or brocante warehouses. which is why i do refrain from visiting them.
exquisite old tiled floor in shop
antwerp
my ♥ would tear apart, i fear. but then there are times when you know you will come closeby anyway, and you endure.
fallen, wooden angel
antwerp
the beauty. the history. and the non portable aspect.
lady and flowers in shop window antwerp
these honeys were unattainable because the shop was closed,
design bureau, antwerp
so all i could do was snap and admire.
little port in old dockyard building to the left = museum mas antwerp
last but not least, when a miniature replica will be made of this museum, i'm gonna get me one. a replica, that is. which will not be vintage at all, not in my time, i realize. flea market finds.
this time it is the postman who's moaning ♪♫ ho-ho-ho ♫ through the letterbox! what has bell (latter part of woolfenbell) all been up to? 
